


making the most of it

by mellowgay



Category: Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - Benjamin Alire Sáenz
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hand Jobs, M/M, Morning Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27486994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellowgay/pseuds/mellowgay
Summary: uhm. ari and dante spend the night together and then they wake up.
Relationships: Aristotle Mendoza & Dante Quintana, Aristotle Mendoza/Dante Quintana
Comments: 2
Kudos: 90





	making the most of it

It was the end of October now, a Sunday. It was starting to get cold and Dante refused to get out of bed. “We have to make the most of this.” He whispered. I’d already gone on my run with Legs and showered. I got back into bed before he even woke up.

“Making the most of what?”

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. He kissed behind my ear, down my neck. They were soft and I could feel the little bit of stubble Dante managed to grow over the weekend. “The fall. I left before it got cold, and I have to spend all of this time with you now to make up for it.”

“You don’t have to make up anything, Dante. We can just spend time together.”

“Yes, I know. I love spending time with you. I especially love spending time with you in the fall and winter. It’s something I don’t have much experience in.” 

“You know that means we can’t go to the desert or swim, right? What are we meant to do?”

He took in a deep breath, yawned and stretched, taking up my whole bed. He laid on top of me now, his legs entwined with mine. “We’ll find ways to keep warm,” he joked.

“I hope so,” I told him. My fingertips drew figures over his bare back. He laughed and pushed them away. “What?”

“Your hands are too cold. You can’t touch me when they’re cold,” he whined. He took them, lifted them to my chest, cupped his hands around them and blew hot air. “Much better.”

“I can touch you now?” I asked.

“Yes,” he laughed, pulling himself closer, “please.” He kissed me. Soft, warm lips were loose against my chapped ones. His hands grabbed at my shirt, lifting it. He placed them on my stomach.

“Your hands are cold, too.” I said into his lips. I pulled the blanket up around our shoulders and elbowed his hands off of me.

“They can’t be, I’ve been in bed all night.” He looked at me with a kind, teasing look. “You went on a run this morning.”

I nodded, “Yes. You were asleep.”

“Maybe they’re cold because you left me here alone.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t be so cold if you wore more clothes to bed.”

He shook his head. “I don’t like that idea. Not when I sleep with you.” Light kisses painted my skin. His hands weaved into my damp hair, brushing out the knots. My hands traced his neck, where his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, where his sunspots started to fade in around his shoulders. His collarbone was defined, clean. His chest was littered with light hair and a few scars. He wasn’t perfect. He had been broken. He had felt pain. My fingers followed his ribs, over the bones and into the spaces. They were all healed. No more bruises, no more cracks.

“Our bodies do incredible things.” I said absently, my hands drawing figures over his bare stomach.

He kissed me. Then he started kissing me. Dante leaned over me, properly on top now. His tongue reached out and lined my lips. Lingering kisses were pressed across my jaw, down my neck. He pulled the collar of my shirt to expose my shoulders and pressed hot kisses there, too. I felt like I was choking on my own heart.

Teeth marked my collarbone, right where my t-shirt sat. His nails lightly followed the curve of my jaw, down my neck and over my chest. I took his hand and weaved his fingers with mine. I compared them. Mine was bigger, rougher. I had burns from the grill and scars from fights and angry outbursts. His were clean and polished, despite the grime and paint between the groves of his fingerprints. They were delicate and thin. You could find the mysteries of the universe in them, sure, but you could read Dante’s like a book.

“I can hear you thinking,” Dante said. He pulled his hand away to lift up my shirt again, exposing my chest to the air.

I laughed, “What am I thinking?”

He shook his head, “Definitely not what I’m thinking.” 

“What are you thinking?”

“I'm thinking… that I’m entirely too horny for a Sunday morning,” he whispered onto my lips. “That I have a gorgeous boyfriend here to help,” He sat up, straddling my waist. He pulled my shirt entirely off. “...that I need you.”

I kissed him like he wanted me to all morning. It was fierce and sloppy and shameless. He pushed his hips against mine. I lifted my knee and pushed back. He smiled, a huff poured from his lips. “Don’t stop,” Dante whispered.

For the first time in a long time, maybe the first time ever, I felt completely light and free. I was relieved. I could breathe without feeling like I was drowning, without feeling that twenty pound cloud around my lungs. I was floating.

I reached down, brushing my fingers over his thighs and under the elastic band of his briefs. I licked down his neck to his bare chest. I sucked a spot, nipping at his skin, then another, then another. Dante whined into my ear, begging, “Ari… Ari. Fuck.” I sighed, lifting my hips to meet his. I pushed his hair from his face, sweat letting it stick back and away.

“I need you,” he whined, “I want…” Dante trailed off as he planted kisses along my shoulders, my chest, my stomach. He pulled my shorts away and kissed my thighs, rubbing his thumbs into my hip bones. He looked up at me.

I nodded, “Please, Dante, please.” He was hot and slick and really fucking good at this. I bent my legs, my calves resting on his shoulders. I was melting. The sun was beating on my face and it was everything I’d ever needed. I felt high. I couldn’t feel my feet and my arms were fading away. I ran my fingers through Dante’s hair softly. He was slow and deliberate and I was falling apart under him. “Dante- Dante…”

He pulled away from me, spit dripping from his bottom lip to his chin. His hand replaced his mouth and I sighed, my thighs started trembling. I pressed my hips into his hand, and now he was quick with his movements, no longer delicate and sensuous, but hungry and ceaseless, and I was gone. My hips stuttered as he slowed his pace. I kissed him and I wanted to kiss him forever.

“Ari,” Dante’s voice was gentle, “you’re crying.” I laughed and pulled him against me. I opened my eyes and looked at him. He was flushed red, the sun coloring him an orange-yellow. I could tell he was concerned. His fingertips brushed away the tears. They left cold streaks on my temples.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” He smiled at me. I kissed him, my hand trailing down, soft touches along his chest, over his ribs, onto his stomach. He pulled off his briefs and I reached between his legs. His eyes rolled back and he laughed, a huff of air with a smile. He was always laughing, always happy. I admired that about him. He pressed into my hand and I touched him tenderly. He whispered incoherently as he came, like a poem he memorized long ago and it was coming back to him in this moment of bliss.

I watched Dante as he steadied his breath. He was smiling. Really smiling, his perfect teeth shining in the growing light. We laid there for a while, content with just existing in the same bed, breathing at the same pace. 

“Everything that you are, I wish I was,” I told him. I didn’t know I was going to say that, but I meant to say more. I just didn’t know how to put it into words. How could I tell him that I wanted his happiness, his room for love, his creativity? That I see his compassion and emotions and soul. How do I tell him he was so entirely pure and absolute? That being around him is infectious and I like myself more when he is with me. I didn’t know how to tell him that. I cupped his face in my hand. He half-opened his eyes and he looked at me. “You’re perfect, Dante. Beautiful… just beautiful.”

He looked at me for a long time. He was searching my face and I felt insecure and embarrassed. I felt like he was reading my mind. I thought he might start crying.

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. That scares me.”

I could tell he wanted to say more, too. I smiled weakly. I didn’t know what to say, so I just kissed him. I thought we didn’t need to say much else.

“Let’s go back to sleep,” he said.


End file.
